Conjugal
by LittleKnux2008
Summary: He was Mr. Right, Prince Charming, the man of her dreams...until he showed his real colors, trapping her inside a nightmare. [PG:13 to be safe!]
1. Diary Entry : October 7th, 2005

**_Conjugal_**

**_Prologue_**

**_October 7th, 2005_****__**

****

****_Prince Charming.__  The dictionary describes him as 'a suitor who fulfills the dreams of his beloved'.  He is known by many names: Mr. Right, 'the man of my dreams', etc, etc.  A year ago, I was certain that I had found him.  His name wasn't Prince Charming, it wasn't Mr. Right…Yet, he fit the description to the smallest detail.  _

_            Earlier in my life, I was one of those girls who dreams about a grand house, a well-paying job, a lovely husband, and the chance to have beautiful kids sometime in her life.  I was one of those who believed in all of those faux fairy tales; where dreams come true and true love is always found.  I believed in Prince Charming; that someday my own version of him would come and find me._

_            All I have to say now, with the advantage of hindsight, is fuck Mr. Right._

_            Dreams don't come true._

_            I know._

_            By now, I realize I've probably confused you to the depths of your mind.  To be brief, I meant my Mr. Right.  _

_            He turned into Mr. Totally-Wrong.  _

_            Oh, sure, in the beginning everything was like I wanted.  He gave me everything he thought I needed or wanted.  He was protective, sweet, and kind.  When I married him, I had everything I'd dreamed of: the homey house, the job that I enjoyed, and the lovely husband, plus the potential for beautiful children.  Everything was great; better than great._

_            And then our marriage past the one-month point, and everything turned around.  The house was no longer homey; it was freakishly neat and lonely.  The not-so-lovely husband had forced me to stop my terrific job.  And the beautiful children?  Well, I'm pregnant, but he had forced out anything fun in my life.  All that's left of me is this shell of skin, harboring a baby that I wish did not come from that monster who calls himself my husband.  I wish that my car hadn't stalled that night; that I wouldn't have gotten into the car with him._

_            I wish I hadn't fallen for him._

_            Curious, isn't it, that when we find what we've always wanted in life, it turns out to be everything but what we want?  _

_            This letter, like all of the others, will get locked beneath the loose panel in the bedroom, never to see the light of day for a long time.  When it does, it will probably be the wife of his next-of-kin, trapped, just like me.  But I hope that she will find these when it's not too late; when she still has friends to support her and another place to go.  I say this because like father, like son.  _

_            Even if someone besides the intended audience comes to see these letters, please listen as I tell you my story.  Though it sounds like so many other stories from feuding spouses…it's not.  Let this serve as a lesson to people: Be careful what you wish for.  Anyway, before I get philosophical on you, I will tell you how I trapped myself in this marriage, starting with the day I met James._

_            It must wait another day though.  I hear the front door opening.  James's voice calling my name…my owner calls._

_            I used to be a prestigious name in the fame of wrestling, but now this is what I'm reduced to-a slave to my husband.  If you've ever known what it feels like to be reduced to nothing, to feel lost within your life…_

_            Welcome to my world._

**Author's Note:  **Well, a sufficiently crap-tastic ending!  A little note: the chapters leading up to October 7th, 2005 will be in third person.  I will have another story entry up when I begin those chapters ("Conjugal Bliss: Revisited") that consists of the letters the Diva writes about the events.  For example, the Diva will talk about the events that happened in the corresponding chapter of this story.  Don't know if that makes sense, but oh well!  I own everything in the story except everything associated with the WWE.  Please review!


	2. October 7th, 2004

**October 7th, 2004**

            "Damn it!"  The words rang through the icy, stale air in the car.  The woman let her head collapse on the steering wheel, her hands resting at the bottom.  _'God…just what I fucking need after tonight…' _she thought to herself crossly, and attempted to turn the car back on.  It was a futile effort.  The car sputtered and died.  As the woman sat up, a shot of pain ran through her hand. 

            Instinctively her hand flew up to her temple, gently touching the bandage the trainer's at the arena had slapped over it.  They had been adamant about sending her to the hospital, but she had talked them out of it.  When the trainers realized that arguing would get them no where, they had put the bandage over the cut, let her wash her blood-covered face with a rag, and told her the standard warnings for such things.  Of course, maybe they were right about the hospital—there **was **a lot of blood.  It was definite about the concussion though.  Her head had been aching ever since she'd regained consciousness backstage.

            Or maybe that was just the sting of betrayal traveling from her heart to her head.

            Her breath, visible in the freezing cold inside the car, curled around her beautiful face, briefly shadowing the flash of pain in her eyes.  Against her own will, her mind began to replay what had happened just a while ago.

            _She was standing with her arms raised above her head in celebration.  Finally, she'd beaten Molly Holly after the now-bald Diva had attacked Stacy.  For the winner, it was more than saving her good friend from a beat down—it was revenge for the times when Molly and Gail Kim had assaulted her.  _

_            "Lita…" Stacy's voice said, and the redhead turned around, expecting to see the long-legged blonde behind her, smile on her face.  Instead, as she turned, she saw blackness as pain shot through her gut.  When her vision returned a moment later, she went numb._

_            There was Stacy, steel chair in hand.  Lita's eyes widened.  Her insides seemed to turn into mush, any defenses shutting down.  "Stace…what…why…" words jumbled out of her mouth.  She looked at Stacy, and her heart plummeted.  The blonde's face was tight with concentration.  Lita was no longer her friend who she was hitting…she was an obstacle in the way of something._

_            'What happened?  What did I do?  Let me fix it!' she felt like screaming, but no words found her way to her throat.  All she could do was watch as Stacy swung the chair once more, into her skull, across her forehead.  The ringing, crashing noise reverberated in her head.  She dropped to the mat as pain wrapped itself around her.  _

_            Then the music had started._

_            Evolution's music._

_            She knew then that it wasn't good, if Evolution had some involvement.  Still, there was a beacon of hope in her.  Maybe, just maybe, Stacy had been pushed into this by them?  The pain was real but the fact that Stacy had hit her twice with a steel chair had yet to sink in.  But when Randy Orton hit the ring, it did, and with frightening accuracy._

_            As black dots danced in front of her eyes, she watched as Randy walked up to Stacy, putting a hand behind her head.  Lita's feeble hope was diminished as Randy pushed his lips against Stacy's eagerly—and as she kissed him back just as passionately.  _

_            The hurting began as a dull thrum inside, but it grew as she watched the two.  Stacy had betrayed her…for Randy.  Her throat caught.  The ring shook beneath her as HHH and the rest of Evolution came into the ring. Blackness ate at the corners of her eyes, and she closed them, letting the pain eat away at her, and the shock settle in._

_            Stacy had betrayed her._

_            It was a relief when Hunter brought the steel chair crashing down on her forehead._

            It was the feel of warm tears running down her face that brought her memories to a close.  Lita held a shaking hand to her face, and let loose a sob.  She didn't get it.  Why did Stacy do such a thing?  _How _could she have?  Sweet, angelic Stacy… 

            It all came back to Randy Orton.

            As her sadness and pain quickly spiraled toward anger toward Randy, the cold left her and her hands clenched into fists by her hips.  She barely heard the polite tap on the window.  At its insistence, she turned, greeted by a friendly face.  The redhead rolled down the window, quickly attempting to rid any sign of tears.  The man by her window didn't seem to notice, anyway.

            "May I help you, miss?"

            Her answer to those five words led to the end of her happy life.


End file.
